


Aftermath of a Hollow Victory

by Nebbles



Series: What Lies at the End [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, everything went wrong and nothing is happy, in which the deliverance completely falls apart, this is a very bad timeline au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 02:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: They'd defeated Desaix, but the victory was not worth the price. There was nothing left to celebrate, no Deliverance left to call home, no leader to be proud of.





	Aftermath of a Hollow Victory

_‘I want to kill Clive.’_

It wasn’t a normal thought for him, and up until a month or so ago, it’d never entered his mind. Before any of this, Clive was a respected, kind leader of the Deliverance. He cared for each member of the army as his own, wanting nothing but their safety. 

But now, that idea was nothing but fantasies and nonsense. The Clive that Python knew was dead and gone, and was a coldhearted bastard with no care for anyone but himself. He remembered seeing the exact moment the change had occurred, as Mathilda’s lifeless body hung in his arms. He remembered Clive’s scathing diatribes towards Alm, the lack of warmth in his voice when he spoke, the cold stares that followed each member of the Deliverance like a hawk.

“Some leader…” Python clicked his tongue in disappointment, reaching for another arrow. 

He took a deep breath, pulling back the string of his bow as the arrow pointed towards the already splintered tree bark. Plenty of arrows had left their mark, jutting out of several points on the tree. Python pictured each area was a different part of Clive’s body, desperate to release his anger in the least harmful way possible. Despite the exhaustion running through his body, and how late it was, Python told himself this was the best way to handle it.

Lukas and Forsyth had enough issues to deal with. Forsyth’s heart had been broken by the sorry state of the Deliverance, and Lukas had spiraled into a mess of his own, due to leaving one toxic environment only to land in another. Python thanked his lucky stars he’d dragged the two out of it, before it had gotten worse. It was already awful, and Python wasn’t interested in seeing how much worse it could get.

The arrow shot off into the bark, and the sound of it hitting the tree was more satisfying than Python wanted to admit. His hold slipped while trying to draw another arrow from his quiver, the arrow softly falling onto the forest floor.

He groaned, going to pick it up, trying to ignore the burning pain running through his hand. The nicks and cuts on his hand had been accumulating for the past week, and his lack of care had only made them sting more. Even if the cuts were minor at most, they decorated the palms of both hands and were scattered about on his fingers. From shaky hands to ripping the arrows out of the tree, Python had quite the collection of injuries. It was better to focus on some minor cuts – they hurt much, much less than Clive’s betrayal.

Focus, he told himself. He wouldn’t feel better until the tree was littered with arrows. A petty way at dealing with his hurt mattered more than some silly cuts. Python nocked another arrow, ready to let it fly off. However, his fingers slipped, and the string of his bow scraped against his already calloused fingers. Python swore, dropping his bow on the ground as his hands screamed out in pain once more.

At least there wasn’t any blood this time, which was an improvement over his last shooting sessions. He knew, however, that there was little point in continuing on for the night. While his anger hadn’t dissipated, his quiver was nearly empty, and the pain was going to mess up any future shots. Python stepped forward to retrieve his arrows, grimacing as each one was yanked out. 

Python would rather have his hands bleed a hundred times over than deal with the hurt Lukas and Forsyth felt. That thought in mind, the rest of the arrows came out effortlessly.

He made the quiet journey back up to his place, thankful it was safe enough for him, Lukas and Forsyth to reside in. No one would bother or find them there – that’s what he hoped, anyway. Setting the bow and quiver down, he slipped back into the house, sighing.

He nearly jumped seeing Forsyth meandering about, and it seemed as though he was expecting Python to stroll through the door.

“Python!” Forsyth raced up to him before he could formulate a response, “there you are! I had woken up not to find you in bed… I wondered where you went at such an hour!”

“It’s… don’t concern yourself,” Python quickly folded his arms behind his back, knowing that if Forsyth got a single glance at his hands, it’d open a whole can of worms that Python had no energy for. All of the sleep in the world would not prepare him for that conversation.

“Don’t concern myself?! It’s the middle of the night, Python!” Forsyth frowned, his senses telling him that something was off with Python. Python didn’t lie, nor did he try to hide things. He noticed how quickly Python’s entire stance changed, and it did nothing to ease his worries as to why he wasn’t home for god who knows how long.

“It’s nothing I want you to worry about, all right?” Python offered a half-assed shrug, wanting to do nothing more but slink into bed and for this line of questioning to be dropped. 

“Python…” Forsyth’s frown didn’t leave his face, and gained a concerned expression to match. “I know that what’s been… happening… is really hard on all of us, okay? If it’s related to… him,” Clive’s name felt too dirty to utter, “just tell me, okay? You’ve offered your ear to Lukas and I plenty.”

_‘Yeah, but you two aren’t hurting yourself, are ya?’_

Python quickly dismissed that thought before he could utter it. If he were to talk to Forsyth about what he’d been out doing, that sentence was not the way to go.

“I told you guys I was fine, right?” Keep lying, Python, he told himself. It was a horrible thing to do, but it felt better than the truth. “And I still am. The only thing I’m ever worried about is you two.”

Forsyth had to stop himself from taking a hold of Python’s arms and tugging them forward. Whatever he wasn’t showing, it must’ve been unpleasant. Forsyth couldn’t imagine what it could be. Endless possibilities floated through his mind, but none of them felt logical. He knew if he questioned Python directly about it, it’d fall on deaf ears and be swept under the rug.

“…are you?” Forsyth blurted out a hasty question, noticing the slight change in Python’s expression.

“Am I what? Fine? I just said I was,” Python sighed, trying to think of an excuse to get out of Forsyth’s sight. “Don’t worry, okay? Just go back to bed.”

“Python, I…” This wasn’t going to anywhere, and Forsyth had no interest in talking in circles. “What’s wrong?”

“Gods, Forsyth, I told you, I’m fine.” Python wanted to wave a hand to dismiss Forysth’s concern, but that would’ve ruined his chance at slipping away.

“I don’t believe you are.” Upon seeing Python’s gaze tear itself to the floor, Forsyth knew he hit a mark. “None of us are okay, Python… and I just want to know what’s wrong.”

Python was silent. He wanted Forsyth to back off, but knew it was futile. He’d lost his steam, unable to retaliate, and stood there, the weight of how not okay he was slowly crashing down on him.

“Show me your hands, Python. I… I just want to know why you’re hiding them. If it’s nothing, I’ll let you go, all right?” Forsyth took a few steps forward, cautiously offering out his own hand. “I’m here for you, Python.”

Python wanted to curse Forsyth’s kindness. If Forsyth had an inkling of the thoughts running through Python’s head, any of that care would vanish. Why would Forsyth’s heart go out to someone who dreamt of murder? Even if it was ending the life of someone they all detested, it made Python feel just as dirty. This concern wasn’t meant for him. 

A part of silently hoped Forsyth would be disgusted, just so Python felt like he got the look of disappointment he deserved. He slowly drew his hands out in front, eyes focusing anywhere else, as he heard a gasp as his hands were tugged forward.

“P-python! Your… your hands, what happened, I…” Forsyth inspected both his palms, turning each hand over several times. “W-who hurt you?!”

“You’re looking at him.” The laugh Python offered was pitiful enough to nearly make him feel bad for himself. “An archer throws a little temper tantrum in the woods and can’t even shoot a bow right. Some archer, huh?”

“You need these cleaned right away! How long have you had these?” Forsyth ignored Python’s apathetic comments, taking him to the couch as he rushed to find healing salve. Python felt like a child who was getting scorned as Forsyth returned, setting down the medical supplies on the table near them. 

“That doesn’t really matter, does it?” Python winced as the salve stung on some of the newer cuts, silently wishing he hadn’t broken under Forsyth’s words. 

“Of course it matters! Is this what you’ve been doing for the past… gods, Python, how long have you been at this?” Forsyth went to apply salve to his other hand, making sure every cut had been dealt with. He knew when Python had first started stringing a bow, he’d gotten a few callouses here and there on his fingers. Those were nothing, and they surely weren’t intentional or the product of possible self-harm. The fact that Python had taken no initiative to look after himself set off unease in Forsyth’s stomach. As lazy as Python was, he never shirked dressing his wounds after long battles.

Of course, that was before the Deliverance fell apart. 

“I guess two weeks. I don’t know. I haven’t really been counting the days, Forsyth,” he wanted to draw away his hands from Forsyth, now that they’d been treated, but the other was not letting go. “I’ve just been stomping in the forest like an angry child. It’s my own fault, so you don’t need to listen to any sob stories I’ve got to offer.”

Forsyth’s hold on Python’s hands kept strong, looking at Python with a hurt expression. He wished he knew so much earlier how hurt Python truly was, and that he’d been holding up a façade this entire time. He and Lukas had been using Python for a shoulder to cry on, and never did they once offer to return the favor.

“That’s ridiculous,” Forsyth kept his tone soft, trying to coax Python into talking more freely. “Whatever’s on your mind, I want to know. I’ll listen. It’s what I’m here for.”

Python snorted, not missing on the irony of his words being used against him. “All righty, then, if you insist.”

Whatever he was about to say, Forsyth was more than ready to hear it all.

“After seeing what Clive did you two… you had your dream shattered, Lukas’ safety net was ruined, and it all happened in the course of a week. I wanted to leave the instant he told Alm he was a mistake, but I knew you guys weren’t going to budge that easily,” Python felt so odd talking about himself. He didn’t like getting emotional, and he didn’t want to teeter on the edge of a breakdown in front of Forsyth. The loneliness of the forest allowed him to cry in peace. “The second Clive hit Lukas, after their argument? That was it. I was done. I wouldn’t have listened to any protests. I had to get you guys out, and I did.”

Python paused, exhaling as Forsyth’s gaze remained steady. His expression hadn’t shifted at all, and Python took that as a cue to go on.

“I wasn’t going to stand around and watch you two become punching bags for every temper tantrum he threw. Lukas dealt with enough at home, so like hell I was going to let him stay there any longer. And this was not your dream, to see the once proud Deliverance fall into shambles under a man who lost himself. Losing Mathilda wasn’t, and will never be an acceptable excuse for his behavior,” Python felt the rage boil in him, threatening to bring angry tears to his eyes once more. “It wasn’t fair.”

“…Python…” Forsyth didn’t know what to say. He knew they had to leave, of course, but the pain came back in waves after hearing Python explain himself. While Forsyth had accepted the Deliverance was a former shell of itself, the heartache of his dreams of knighthood vanishing in an instant was still too much. 

“I was livid at how he treated everyone, and honestly, I’m still angry, if that wasn’t obvious.” Now that he had begun to talk, Python couldn’t find himself stopping. “And I don’t want you or Lukas seeing it. I don’t enjoy being this mad, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. So I thought going and shooting up some tree in the forest, pretending it was Clive, would magically make me feel better. Days and injuries later, it’s done nothing.” 

He wished Forsyth would let go of his hands already. They didn’t deserve to be held in such a gentle way.

“My silly temper tantrums are nothing more than an ugly attempt at dealing with my own pain. I’m no better than him, wanting to harm someone else to deal with the hurt. Why did you think I wanted to keep my trap shut?” Python glanced down at the mess that his hands were. “You think I’m proud of this?”

“Python, you…” Forsyth gently rubbed his thumbs against Python’s hands, “this isn’t ugly, Python. How you feel, how upset you are… it’s okay.”

“It doesn’t even feel that way. Nothing about any of this feels remotely okay.” Python wormed one hand away for Forsyth’s, only for Forsyth to retaliate by lacing his fingers between Python’s. “Forsyth, gods, let go--”

“No. I don’t want you feel like you’re an awful person for being angry,” Forsyth shook his head. “Please, Python – don’t beat yourself up.”

Python sighed, giving up on wrestling himself free from Forsyth’s hands. “How can you say that when I want to do nothing but find Clive and shoot an arrow through his chest? Aren’t I as bad as him, or even Lukas’ brother who also wants him dead? How am I suddenly a better person than they are?”

“Because you’d never actually harm someone intentionally, Python. And Clive deserves your anger. None of us deserved how Clive treated us… and you’d just never do that, Python.” Perhaps his faith in Python was that strong, but Forsyth refused to believe Python would ever be comfortable with carrying out such an action. 

“And how can you trust me?” Python looked down at the sorry mess on his hands. “I can’t even trust myself to handle some emotions. Gods know what’d happen if Clive found us…”

“I’ve trusted you with my life for ages, Python. I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon,” he slowly drew one of Python’s hands up, kissing the palm of his hand. “No matter how angry or sad you get, no matter how you feel, I trust you.”

Python sputtered, trying to concoct a half decent reply as Forsyth’s lips gently pressed against his hand once more. He felt hardly deserving of Forsyth’s kindness, nonetheless his affection. 

“Whatever you feel… I want to be there to help, Python. Please. I don’t want to see you hurting like this,” Forsyth looked back up at Python, who had gained a streak of red running across his face. “You’ve been there for me… please, let me return the favor.”

“I-I don’t…” Python was unsure of how to continue. Forsyth placed another kiss on Python’s other hand, running his thumb across some of the scars that were forming. 

“You told me it was okay to cry, and to be hurt…” Forsyth pulled in Python closer to him, “you can cry too, Python. It’s okay.”

He remembered the time he echoed those exact sentiments to Forsyth. It’d only been a few days since they deserted, and the shock Forsyth was feeling had begun to wear off. It was much late into the night, and Forsyth had gone to Python, unable to sleep. Python sat him down, told him to talk and cry it out, saying it was okay. Forsyth had sobbed into his shoulder until sunrise. After Python had gotten Lukas to cry it out as well, he vowed that his own emotions would come second. His own well-being wasn’t as important. His priorities strictly followed those two, shoving his own needs to the side.

And here Forsyth was, telling Python that his own needs were just as important. Forsyth was reminding him that he had no reason to shove himself to the side and ignore any pain of his own. The irony of this situation being a complete reversal of that night hit Python like a truck. Just as he told Forsyth he was important, Forsyth was reminding him tenfold.

“You mean so much to me, Python, and I just want to help you…” Forsyth finally gave a long sigh of his own. “Please.”

Python felt his body shuddering as his vision blurred, tears finally coming to the surface. His anger had formed into nothing but pain, his heart aching in nothing but sadness as the first sobs left his throat. Forsyth’s arms wrapped around him in a flash, drawing him close. Python leaned into his shoulder, sniffling weakly as his arms loosely flung around Forsyth’s waist.

It broke Forsyth’s heart to see him weep, but it was better than having his emotions bottled up. He rubbed Python’s back gently, making small circles as Python stained his sleeve with tears. He leaned his head against Python’s, muttering that it was okay, cry it out, it’s okay. 

Tears threatened Forsyth’s eyes as well, and he gave no attempt to stop them. His tears were silent, longing for happier times. Those times were long gone, and all he could do was help. He, Python and Lukas would get through this, no matter how long it took. The path was long and difficult, and he knew countless obstacles would slow them down.

If it got either of them to smile again, it’d be worth it. 

As another round of sobs passed, Forsyth moved his other hand to stroke Python’s hair, hoping it’d offer more comfort. The notion was something Python was used to, as the soothing touch often helped him sleep when it finally found the two. 

“H-hey,” it felt like ages for Forsyth to speak up, trying to steady his voice, “Are... d-do you feel any better?”

Python’s arms tightened around Forsyth, nodding weakly, his head still nuzzled into Forsyth’s shoulder. Forsyth didn’t need to hear him to know how exhausted he was, and his own exhaustion was more than apparent. Not only was it late, but the crying had drained them both, Python especially.

“You need sleep,” Forsyth continued stroking his hair, “I know I need it too, but you more. Let me bandage your hands before we get some rest. Okay?”

Python didn’t want to unglue himself from Forsyth, but obliged as Forsyth wrapped gauze around Python’s hands, the scars slipping under the bandages. He finally didn’t have to look at the sorry state they were in, and while they still stung, they’d recover.

“There we go…” Forsyth managed a weak smile, leaning over to kiss Python on the top of the head. “Let’s go to bed. I’m sure they’ll feel better in the morning.”

Python gave a nod in reply, accepting Forsyth’s hand as he offered it out. Exhaustion had settled into his body, and was glad Forsyth held his hand on the short walk back into their room. Slipping under the covers and into Forsyth’s arms felt like a fluid movement, barely able to keep his eyes open. 

“Forsyth?” His voice sounded a touch strained.

“Mm?” Forsyth looked at him, ready to doze off himself.

“Thank you. For everything,” he wasn’t able to offer a smile, but the sentiment carried through nonetheless.

“You’re welcome. I’d do it a hundred times and more,” Forsyth returned the statement with a final kiss to the forehead as Python drifted off into a much needed, and finally dreamless sleep.

For the first time in a while, nightmares did not follow either of them.


End file.
